People Stand For This?

Every now and then, I'll hear some nightmare story about people being trapped in an airplane on the runway for several hours....
The best example is probably a 2007 incident in which JetBlue passengers were forced to just sit there in extremely uncomfortable conditions for EIGHT FRIGGIN' HOURS:
http://www.cnn.com/2007/TRAVEL/02/15/passengers.stranded/index.html


Apparently, enough people at both the airline and airport were incompetent enough for this to have been possible. Read the story -- it's frightening. A couple hundred poor suckers just suffering in an aluminum tube on some tarmac for no reason, and not being allowed to leave. No doubt, it was torture for them...and even more outrageous is the fact that no one was ever really held responsible. Sure, there's been empty talk from lawmakers about stepping in, but I don't believe they'll find a solution. Something like the Jet Blue incident could happen again, and it HAS.

Now, I HATE air travel, and the second I find myself in an airport, I get cranky. I'm usually a very laid back sort of fellow, but there's something about being in that confusing and hectic environment that causes me to lose my temper. I've spit the F-word out at hapless airline employees more times than I'd care to admit, and once even threw a bag in some counter guy's face (he deserved it, though -- the knucklehead tried to tell me that my luggage couldn't be brought on board as a carry-on, when it CLEARLY would have fit under the seat). All of the things that I hate dealing with in life come together in air travel: lack of organization, overly-stringent and arbitrary rules, and a near total lack of rights for the individual. The helpless feeling of flying reminds me of being in school -- trapped in a lumbering system run by uncaring and mysterious forces who know that I have no choice but to put up with them. The jerks. The swine. They just do whatever they want!


My irritation with flying grows as I find myself with less and less control, and it reaches its peak with the actual flight itself; once I'm on the plane, everything that happens is totally out of my hands and I am all the more uncomfortable. Locked in that tuna can, one doesn't even have the option of LEAVING anymore (which to me is the most important option in any situation, really). I get especially antsy when they make us sit on the runway for no reason. One time, I was on a flight that waited around idling for 45 minutes before we took off, and that nearly drove me insane. What's even WORSE, though, is when they make you sit on the plane AFTER it's already landed at its destination. I hate that with the intensity of a thousand suns. "We just flew for six hours, and now we've reached our destination! I can see the friggin' airport terminal RIGHT THERE!! Look out the window! It's right THERE!!! Yet, we are just sitting in this plane. Why are we just sitting here? I'm hungry, I want a smoke, and I'm about to blow. LET ME OFF THIS CRAZY THING!!!"


I once was forced to sit that way for about 30 minutes after landing, and was already muttering things that could have gotten me arrested. I can't imagine what would happen if I were to be put in the same situation as those poor folks on the legendary Jet Blue flight or any of the other similar flights that have been reported in recent years. There's no way I would have kept my cool waiting on the runway for eight hours. In fact, I'm sure that I'd have done something that would lead to federal charges, and I'm OK with that thought.

Now, I know some people would say, "But Drew, if you hate flying so much, you'd definitely hate PRISON even more!" That may or may not be true. I mean, with air travel, the abuse is more outrageous because...well, you know...I FRIGGIN' PAID FOR THIS! That feeling of indignation makes my blood boil. If I give someone a couple of hundred dollars for something, I expect them to at least be courteous. In prison, however, I'd understand that my mistreatment is justified and perhaps even expected.

Therefore, I hereby vow to NOT tolerate it if I ever find myself on one of those planes that sits on the runway with the passengers trapped inside for several hours. How many hours? Uh...let's say three. I give them three hours. Three hours, TOPS, to get me off that plane. Once we reach the three hour mark, I'll take action.

But what will I do? Well, the most obvious thing would be to simply get up, run to the emergency exit, and jump out. Screw it. Even if I break my leg, at least I'll be outside in the semi-fresh air...and if I don't break my leg, I'll make a run for it. Hop the fence somewhere, and let the FAA track me down later. It's likely a stewardess would try to stop me, so I'd probably have to shove her out of the way. "Sorry, darlin'. Nothing personal, but I'm hoppin' mad over here, and gotta boogy!" I guess that means I'd be charged with some kind of assault on top of the reckless endangerment case they'd throw in my face (prosecutors always charge a suspect with more than one thing so they can negotiate a plea deal with the defendant later). Fine. Let me be an example.


OR, maybe I could just fake a heart attack. That would be easy, since I'd probably be on the verge of something like that, anyway. If someone on the plane is dying, you can bet the idiots in charge would unload him more quickly (at least, I think they would). Later on, I could just claim that it must have been a panic attack instead. "Oops, false alarm. Sorry for troubling you, boys!" Of course, the air officials would be able to figure out the whole thing had been a ruse if they were to stumble across this blog. Look at me -- here I am, leaving a record of my criminal plans for all to see. Eh, who am I kidding? No investigator associated with the airline industry would ever be smart enough to find this.

Hey, speaking of projects that would sooner be forgotten by their creators, here's a weird movie from Hal Hartley.

No Such Thing (2001)
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0248190/


Netflix description:
An ambitious story that scorns sensational journalism. Beatrice (Sarah Polley) is a naïve reporter sent to find out what happened to a camera crew that disappeared in Iceland. Instead, her focus turns to a depressed and suicidal monster she encounters there. She promises to help the monster but instead feeds him to the hungry international media. The first-rate cast includes Helen Mirren and Julie Christie.


Boy, did Hal Hartley sure go off the deep end for a while there. The prolific indie filmmaker was behind some great little pictures in the early to mid-90s (Trust, The Unbelievable Truth), but somewhere along the line, he lost his way and started cranking out murky, metaphor-heavy tripe like No Such Thing (also see The Book of Life: 2000). Fortunately, old Hal seems to have recovered in recent years with films like Fay Grim and Henry Fool, but the memory of No Such Thing remains, and it certainly stings.

This is a film about a monster who lives in a cave in Iceland. He likes to drink and smoke, looks like the creature from the Beauty and the Beast TV series, and kills anyone who comes near him. One day, an investigative reporter stumbles across the monster's cave and, for various reasons, he lets her live. She returns the favor by unleashing a media frenzy on the poor fellow. Reporters and paparazzi swarm the monster's domain, eager to exploit the morose and suicidal freak. Eventually, he travels to the big city, still hounded by press, in search of something that will destroy him.

Now, what struck me about No Such Thing was its cast. There are some pretty impressive names here -- Julie Christie, Helen Mirren, etc. -- so a great deal of good will must have gone into casting this film. I wonder if the stars who agreed to take part in the project asked themselves why the heck they took such a gamble when it was all over. I mean, Hartley gets his shot at working with legends of the movie business, and he blows it on a meandering, confused story like this? No Such Thing may have had a fairly good idea behind it as an assault on the modern sensationalistic media, but its presentation is so surreal, and its story so muddled, that we're left flat out bored by the time the third act rolls around.

The minutes float by, and we never feel involved. Do we really care about the monster's orgins? Well, maybe we would have, but Hartley gives the impression that he has no intention of delving into the subject, anyway, so as viewers we sort of write off the possibility from the beginning. Why is the monster so intent on killing himself? And furthermore, why CAN'T the monster kill himself? Wouldn't the military be interested in this kind of thing? No one seems to ask. His discovery is a worldwide media sensation, yet the most obvious questions about him are ignored. Our heroine (played by the beautiful Sarah Polley) is so casual about assisting the creature in his mission of self-destruction that it throws us off. With whom are we supposed to sympathize?

Anyway, No Such Thing does have some valid points to make about the cold-heartedness of the modern press, and YES -- the acting is excellent. I was also impressed with the film's sparkling shots of the Icelandic coast, and frankly, I kind of liked the monster by the end. No Such Thing's premise could have worked had the end result felt a little less "dreamy", and the intent made a little more clear, so I won't say that it's a completely BAD film. It's just not that good...and I expect much more from Hal Hartley. Watch at your own risk.

2 out of 5.

b.